Phoenix!
by UchihaGirl17
Summary: He wasn't sure what had woke him up first, the nightmare, explosion, or the sharp agonizing pain that suddenly shot through his body like a thousand knives. Pulling himself up off the bed he winced and stumbled over to his bedroom window. What he saw, he couldn't explain, it was too horrible for words. Outside his window he saw Paris going up in flames.
1. Chapter 1

_**{{Disclaimer: **__I do not own Hetalia that right belongs to Hidekazu_ Himaruya

_**A/N: **__Just to clarify that I love all the characters in Hetalia and have nothing against France. I just need to torture him in the story so that it will make more sense later on.__**}}**_

_**Chapter One:**_

As the city lights lit the darkening sky, and pedestrians crowded the busy streets, a tall figure leaned against the rustic red brick wall of an abandoned house. An old pocket watch glinted in the darkness and a rotting, twisted smile gleamed menacingly in the shadows. The man was enjoying himself, gazing at the watch ticking slowly to midnight. His twisted smile turned even more sinister. The fun was about to start and no one was expecting it. It sent shivers of excitement down his spine. There were five minutes left.

Pushing away from the brick wall he pulled the hood of his long navy blue, knee length jacket up over his head as he slowly dissolved into the growing shadows of the ally. He moved along the ally till he hit the opposite street and moved out among the crowd of citizens. He had to admit it was a beautiful city. Then again it was Paris, France. Pulling deeper into the crowd of bystanders he pulled out his cell phone and opened the text menu. With fingers flying across the keypad he typed his text and hit send.

_'**To:** UFO_

**_Subject:_**_ Operation Falcon!_

_The rabbit is in place, release the hound!'_

Placing the phone back into his pocket he continued walking until he saw another hooded figure outside a small bakery. Walking over to the other hooded man, they shared a few words before getting into a black 1992 Clio. The man with the yellowing teeth looked at his watch again. 11:59:56pm. just four seconds remaining, and as he closed the pocket watch the clock struck 12.

_Francis was having a very good dream. It was beautiful. The sun was shining on a large green field filled with wild flowers. She was there her beautiful golden hair shining in the sunlight. It was the only place he could see her now, but as much as it saddened him he would never give up these dreams. He sat there on the grass, watching her dance, a beautiful smile gracing her features. She stopped and turned to him, her smile warm and inviting. _

_'Francis, you need to wake up now,' her sweet voice sounded, 'hurry, you're in danger.'_

_Then as if on cue the dream altered. Instead of the grassy fields and wild flowers, there was now a city street and many citizens. They were crowded around a pile of lumber. France felt his blood run cold when the wood caught fire. He stood there in horror as he watched the flames catch onto her dress. Searing the flesh on her legs, consuming her entire body as the agonized screams echoed throughout the crowd. _

He wasn't sure what had woke him up first, the nightmare, explosion, or the sharp agonizing pain that suddenly shot through his body like a thousand knives. Pulling himself up off the bed he winced and stumbled over to his bedroom window. What he saw, he couldn't explain. It was too horrible for words. Outside his window he saw Paris going up in flames. People running and screaming, trying to find safety from the falling debris as buildings crumbled around them. He had to do something! He was about to turn and head downstairs to help when an even greater pain assaulted his body. Grasping his sides he almost fell to his knees but caught himself on the wall. Leaning on the wall he whirled back to the window, just in time to see the Eiffel tower fall. With the state he was in he knew that a large majority of his monuments met the same fate.

He was in so much pain, but he had to do something. Pushing himself off the wall he staggered to his bedroom door. Pushing it open he moved to the hallway. However, he wasn't fast enough. He should have known, should have sensed it, but he didn't and with the greatest pain of all he watched as his house exploded around him. The flames engulfing it, for the next five to six hours France was in chaos. Buildings were exploding, flames were engulfing everything and the amount of dead was increasing every second.

Startling awake in a cold sweat Mathew looked around. Something was wrong he could feel it, but he didn't know what. Pacing back and forth in his room he picked up his phone and dialed his brother's number when a very tired and half out of it voice answered the other end,

"Bro, do you even know what time it is man, it's 12:30 in the morning. I need my sleep, what did you want?" Alfred questioned irritated.

Mathew frown deepened, "Is everything okay over there? Is anything wrong?"

"…Yes, and nothing is wrong, or at least not till you called, is that all dude?" Alfred asked.

"Yes, sorry to bother you night Alfred," Mathew responded biting his lip, as he hung up.

The feeling was still there though and he didn't understand, that bothered him a lot. Shaking his head he dialed France's number, but when there was no connection he panicked. Not wanting to call Alfred again he dialed Arthur's number, he had to wait a few moments it was 4:30 in England. He was about to give up when I groggy voice answered,

"Hello?" Arthur questioned in to the receiver.

"Hi Arthur, sorry to call you so early in the morning," Mathew said, "I think something is the matter with papa."

Arthur blinked once before responding, "When is there something not wrong with Francis?"

"Please Arthur, can you just check on him?" Mathew asked quietly, his voice filled with worry.

Arthur sighed, stretched and yawned, "Alright I will check and get back to you."

Mathew hung up and paced his room some more. Waiting for Arthur to call him back with some news about what was going on with France. He hoped everything was okay, hoped that the telephone lines were just down.

Arthur had half a mind to just go back to sleep, but he said he would check on the frog and he would. Dialing the Frenchman's number he waited a few moments, only to be greeted with nothing. Frowning he crawled out of bed and walked over to the window. Everything was quiet, but then he heard it, the sound of explosions. The red glow in the far horizon, fear laced his features. Dialing Mathew back he quickly told the Canadian, to bring as many medics to France as he could. Once he finished giving orders to Mathew he called closer nations.

Germany was the first. He was sleeping soundly with Italy nestled beside him when the phone rang he reached for it blindly and in a deep German voice spoke, "Hallo?"

"Germany it's Brittan, I need your help, France is under attack," Arthur spoke in a frantic tone.

Germany bolted upright in to a sitting position on the bed, "Was'? Okay I will be there as soon as I can."

Spain was the next to be called, and jumped into action two seconds after being told what was going on. Arthur then called the rest of the Allies. However, by the time they all managed to get to France it was in ruins. They all stood there in horror. Body's covered the ground, painting the earth red with their blood. The smell of charred flesh and burnt hair filled the air around the stunned nations. How could a nation be rendered to such a state in so little time? It puzzled them. It was Germany, who broke the silence and got everyone moving,

"Search for any survivors! Get the medic tents set up! America and Switzerland come with me!" he barked his orders weaving through the burnt corpses.

Everyone hurried about doing their jobs, Canada, Finland, Italy, Iceland, Estonia, Latvia and a couple others were in charge of healing the wounded. Russia, Turkey, Prussia, Denmark and Sweden were in charge of debris removal. Then there was Brittan, China, Japan, Norway, Spain, Romano, and Lithuania who went about finding survivors.

Germany, America and Switzerland had finally made it to France's house and they froze. America trembled, anger bubbling deep inside him. His blue eyes grew dark and frightening. Sure he didn't get along great with France, but he was still family and a friend. America started forward, but was stopped by Germany.

"You need to tread carefully, it is unsafe to move blindly," Germany warned.

America gritted his teeth and spat, "I would love to see you keep calm if it was Japan or Italy in there!"

"Listen, you are no help to him if you go in there half cocked! If you got hurt how the heck are Switzerland and I supposed to get both of you out of there!" he demanded, a vein in his jaw twitching.

America sighed and let his feathers settle. Taking a few more deep breaths he looked at Germany once again, "What's the plan?" he asked.

They stood in a circle for the next twenty minutes or so, going over what would be the safest way to get in there and rescue France without any risk of injury to themselves. In the end they decided to send America inside, a rope secured around his waist incase the floor gave out. They would have sent Switzerland in, because he was the lightest, but if there were any fallen debris in the way he wouldn't have been able to move it. Once the rope was secure and America disappeared into the wreckage of the house Germany turned to look at Switzerland,

"This is really bad, even if he finds him I-" Germany trailed off running a hand through his hair.

Switzerland looked at him with understanding, "I know, I haven't seen destruction like this since the old days, if he survives it'll be a miracle."

Both men turned to look back at the burnt down manor. They prayed it wasn't too late. America treaded carefully over the burnt and broken floor. It creaked horribly under his feet and made him nervous. Looking around for any sign of France he continued on cautiously. Pushing a thick fallen support beam out of his way he almost vomited, there lying in the corner was one of France's assistants. The skin was burnt so bad you could no longer tell if it was a man or a woman. The smell assaulted America's nose as he walked around the corpse, a green colored puss like liquid seeping out of gashes.

He couldn't see anything as he kept pushing through the house. He was about to go into what used to be the kitchen when he heard a noise. Looking in the general direction of the noise, he squinted and in a few moments a white object flew out of the shadows and he recognized Pierre. Turning he looked at the bird,

"Where is France?" he asked urgently.

Pierre chirped flew in a circle and flew off in the direction of where the staircase used to be. America followed the bird as quickly as he dared. When he got to where the staircase was supposed to be he sucked in a breath,

"Oh, god!" he gasped at the large hole that had jagged splints of wood sticking out in dangerous angles, and right in the middle of it was France.

America stumbled through the debris trying to avoid the sharp points that scratched at him. He had managed to make it to France before he saw the extent of the damage. There was blood everywhere, his skin burnt and blistered in areas. His blonde hair was burnt and singed in areas. When America lifted one of the beams off of France he saw the jacked blood covered end of wood protruding from the Frenchman's side. Shaking off the fear that suddenly claimed him, America moved forward and lifted France into his arms, the jagged piece of wood still in place. Getting out of the house without causing more damage to France was going to be hard enough. Retracing his footsteps he treaded even more carefully, making sure to watch where he stepped. He had finally managed to get out after a little while. Germany and Switzerland were beside him in an instant helping him support France.

Brittan and the others were still hard at work, when America, Germany and Switzerland returned with France. Soldiers were bringing in bodies by the truck loads. Medics were busy fixing up wounds and trying to save lives. France was taken to one of the main tents and after a little while was air lifted to a hospital with several other patients that needed immediate attention. The day soon turned into night before the last of the soldiers retuned. The death count was not good, and everyone was exhausted. There was still a lot to be done though. The weeks that followed were full of searching for survivors, treating the wounded and burying the dead. It was a good three weeks before everything came to a close, and people returned to their own nations.

Most of the nations themselves however spent the nights outside a hospital in their cars or in the waiting room. France had been in the ICU for three weeks and was not getting any better. They all worried and were not allowed to see him right away. Mathew had stayed at the hospital every day and night waiting for word of Frances recovery. It was on the third day of the fourth week that the doctor came with information. Everyone crowded around Mathew and the doctor, who had a grim expression and stated,

"I am afraid that Mr. Bonnefoy has suffered from massive blood loss, trauma throughout his organs, and most of his body is severely burned. We have induced a medical coma in order for you to say your farewells. He probably won't make it through the night."

_**{{German Translations: **__Hallo=Hello_

_Was'= What.**}}**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**{{Disclaimer: **__I do not own Hetalia that right belongs to Hidekazu_ Himaruya_**}}**_

_**Chapter Two:**_

Mathew stood frozen staring at the doctor as if he had heard wrong. He wasn't sure what happened next, it all blurred together after that. He remembered hearing gasps, someone, Italy sobbing into who he supposed was Germany. He heard a thud and a crash followed by retreating footsteps, heard Arthur call for Alfred to wait. That was all before he collapsed onto his knees from the shock in front of the doctor,

"It's a lie, it has to be a lie," Mathew whispered more to himself than anyone else.

The doctor responded though, "I'm sorry, but truth be told he shouldn't even still be alive right now, it's a miracle he is. We have done everything we can for him-" the doctor was cut off.

"Ja richtig! You have already given up on him. Was' chance does he have if his doctor has given up all hope. You have done nothing!" Prussia fumed as he approached the doctor, hands moving about in a fury of angry gestures.

Ludwig stepped in then, moving between Prussia and the doctor, Italy still sobbing into his shirt, "Bruder! Now is not the time to act like that."

Gilbert was about to protest, but the look Ludwig shot him made him keep his mouth shut. Grumbling under his breath he went back to stand beside Antonio. Everyone was talking among themselves as the doctor left, giving everyone time to figure out who would go in. Mathew pushed himself to his feet and moved over to sit in a chair. He couldn't believe this was happening. Francis was going to die. It was too sudden. Mathew didn't understand any of it. Why was France attacked? There were so many questions he had, but there were no answers.

When Alfred and Arthur returned, Alfred went and sat down beside Mathew while Arthur talked to the other Nations about the visiting order. After ten minutes or so they came to a conclusion. Arthur moved over to where Alfred and Mathew sat and explained that the nations who had the least amount of things to say should go first and close family and friends would go last. Mathew looked at Arthur then and bit his lower lip nervously. He wanted to say something, but thought better of it. He would just bring it up once it came to be his turn to go in. He wanted to go in last, wanted to sit in there when the time came that he would have to say goodbye.

As the nations all started the process of going in and saying there farewells, America was sitting beside Mathew trying to figure out what the hell was going on. How had France been taken out so fast without any of them knowing? Especially England, who was like just across the channel? Shaking his head he couldn't figure it out, with all the technology that they had now and no one thought to use a cell phone or the internet. Hell there wasn't even an emergency broadcast. It wasn't adding up at all, it wasn't possible for it to happen. Then he hit his left palm with a fist and stated, "It must have been aliens!"

Mathew and Arthur looked at Alfred, "What are you going on about you bloody git?" Arthur asked.

"There is no way that all of France could have fallen without us knowing, unless aliens were involved," he said seriously like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Arthur looked flabbergasted, "Alfred, I doubt it was aliens, this looks like a man made assault."

"It just doesn't seem plausible, not with all the cell phones and internet," Alfred persisted.

Arthur thought about that for a minute and sighed, for once Alfred actually made sense. There was absolutely no making heads nor tales of the current situation. They would have to hold a meeting and try to figure out what to do. What they needed to do was make sure something like this didn't happen again. So they would have to send out a warning to all nations to be on guard. After a majority of the nations said there farewells and left there was only a few odd nations left. There was America, England, Canada, Germany, Italy, Prussia, Romano, Spain, Russia, China, Japan, and Seychelles. There would have been more, but they didn't really have a whole lot to say to France so they left with the other nations.

China, and Japan went in first to say there farewells followed by Germany, Italy and Romano. Romano didn't like France all that much but he wanted to be there for Italy who was really broken up over the loss of his 'big brother France.' After that Prussia and Spain went in to say their goodbyes, followed by England, America, and Seychelles. Canada had wished to go last alone. He wanted to sit with France till he was gone, and no one had the heart to tell him he couldn't.

Meanwhile, the hooded man who had gotten into the car was now in a dark place. There were no lights or anything. The smell of earth rose all around him and in the distance he could hear the echo of water dropping. It was no mystery that he was underground in a cave somewhere, it was also no mystery as to why he was there. He had spent the last four years developing his plans and gathering supporters. Than it finally happened, all his years of planning and waiting, had finally come, he had managed to destroy France. Smiling as a horrible noise emitting from the darkness, he was laughing. It was a very malicious sound as it bounced off the rock walls. Even though he had destroyed France, his mission was not yet over. He still had to execute his plans on France's colonies. He really hated his homeland. Yes he was a human born in France, and he wanted everything to do with it destroyed.

Back at the hospital everything was going slowly. China and Japan had just entered the room to say their goodbyes. America, England, and Russia were all going over the information they had gathered on the attack. Everyone was tired no one had slept well and the evidence was clear on their warn faces. Prussia was over by the wall with Germany, Spain, Romano and Italy. The minutes ticked by slowly and everyone was getting agitated about not being able to figure out anything. If this was an attack by a mortal than why did they attack France? Would the attacks stop now or would there be more attacks? None of them knew and it was pissing them off. Canada, better known as Mathew still sat in the chair intertwining his fingers as he waited for his turn. He was really worried about Francis.

Everything around him was dark. There was no light, just sheer blackness and the slight chill that hung in the air. France looked around. He didn't understand where he was. Was this the so called afterlife for a nation? Here he thought it would be something extravagant. A soft beautiful laugh filled the silence and France looked for the source but couldn't see anything.

"Who is there?" he asked nervously.

More laughter surrounded him and then a warm breeze settled before a bright light almost blinded him. Squinting into the light he could only make out a mangled shape. As the light dimmed though the shape took a more solid form and after a few moments a beautiful older woman was standing before him. He was more certain he was about to enter the afterlife now, and what did he do, he decided to be flirtatious with his host,

"I must be dead! For you are the most beautiful being I have ever laid eyes upon. C'est un plaisir," he spoke softly.

The woman laughed, it was a light sound almost like wind chimes on a nice day, "Thank you darling, but I am old enough to be your great grandmother, oh wait I am your great grandmother."

"Excusez-moi, you do not look it, I would say you looked like a sister," he smiled at her.

She giggled, "Oh, you are a charmer aren't you, anyways enough with the pleasantries, I am Ancient Greece and I have come here to give you an offer."

_**{{German Translations: **_

_Ja richtig = Yeah Right_

_Was' = What_

_Bruder = Brother._

_**French Translations: **_

_C'est un plaisir = It's my pleasure_

_Excusez-moi = Excuse/Pardon me.__**}}**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three:**

Francis looked at her with a raised eyebrow, ancient Greece. He was talking to ancient Greece. She also wanted to offer him something, what could she possibly want to offer him. He was dead wasn't he? Frowning slightly he looked at her with a question in his eyes. She seemed to have picked up on it to because in the next instant she raised her hand with one delicate finger up. It was the commonly used gesture for one minute I will explain. So he waited for her to explain.

"I have come to offer you a choice, like I have been doing for many, many years now, however, there is something we must do first," she said and extended her hand to him.

France hesitantly grasped the hand with his and looked at her with a raised eyebrow, "What do we have to do? What offer?" He began, but she silenced him with a look.

"All questions will be answered in their own time, for now you need to reflect on past events," she said and thrust her other hand out in front of her.

The black abyss they were floating in suddenly disappeared and in its wake was a field of white lilies. Blinking a couple of times at the scene before him, France realized instantly that this field was from his past. He remembered it on several occasions, some good and some bad. Though this field was destroyed, and buildings were built on the land. Staring around, he saw ancient Greece over by a large tree. Moving towards her he noticed something else, something on the ground it wasn't very big but it felt familiar. Moving closer he noticed that it was a child, a dirty child with mud covering it from head to toe?

"What is this? I don't remember ever seeing a child here?" He questioned his guide.

Ancient Greece smiled softly, leaning down to brush the dirty golden hair off of the child's face. "So you don't recognize him then?" She questioned amusement in her voice.

"Should I?" France asked her, he didn't like riddles and he was worried about the child but at the same time he had no recollection of this day. He remembered the field, the tree, hell he even recognized the smell and feel of the place, but he could not remember this child.

Smiling at his confusion, she placed a hand on his shoulder and the scene before them fast forwarded. They watched the child slip in and out of consciousness for a long while, and then someone else entered the memory a small boy. He looked around maybe ten years old, had brown hair and a dark tan. France recognized him right away from his friendly, yet somewhat clueless green eyes. It was Spain.

Francis watched as Spain walked through the grass just having fun. He had to smile. He did remember Spain at that age, but never the other boy. Who could that dirty child be? He wondered mentally to himself. Watching Spain run around and have fun made him feel really relaxed, if he had to choose anywhere he would want to spend the rest of his life it would be here in this meadow surrounded by his friends. He missed the innocent years when he never had to fight in a battle, never had to defend himself at every turn.

The scene shifted again when Spain noticed the sleeping child and approached cautiously before running away. Only to return a little while later dragging a taller man behind him by the hand, this new arrival was paler in skin tone, but looked a bit like Spain. Although he had a beard and golden brown eyes, France recognized him right away to. It was Rome. Watching as the two nations approached the unconscious child France wracked his brain. It was starting to get familiar but it was still not coming to him.

Everything went by rather quickly after that. Rome and Spain had gotten the child to wake up and then Rome had asked the child its name. Francis looked at the filthy child and blinked as he waited for recognition. It came a moment later. As the child lifted his head, dull blue eyes peered through the

dirty hair. Watching as Rome pushed the hair out of the way Francis gasped. This tiny, dirty child, was him.

"My name is France," the small boy said shyly, voice high because it hadn't broke yet.

Rome smiled dashingly at child France, "It's an honor, why don't we get you back to my place so you can clean up a little bit huh, what do you say?"

"I, um okay," came the nervous reply.

Everything after that went by in a blur. Francis had been cleaned up and Rome having mistaken him for a girl had a dress sent to him. Being so young and naive at the time France didn't know any better. He had liked the dresses and the pretty smelling perfumes that had existed in that time. He had thought himself family after a while. Boy was Francis wrong about that.

The following weeks that passed were a lot more frightening than he remembered. He noticed things he had forgotten about, like the looks he used to receive as from people as he passed. The resentment in there eyes was harsh and always saddened him. Francis was unsure, why Greece was showing him all this. He knew that there was no point in questioning it though. So he watched from a far as his past self went down the same paths he once followed.

Young child France shook off the feelings that had arisen inside of him. It was not in his nature to let something of that magnitude bother him. There was a special place Francis liked to go, and it was there that he later in life ended up visiting quite often. It was a place that would hold lots of fond loving memories, a place he would never trade for anything in the world. The field was where he met all of the important people in his life. He was found by Grandpa Rome and Spain there, than later he met Prussia, in fact he hadn't really meant to trip over the sleeping nation but he did.

The older nation wore a white, well it was off white from the dirt, suit with a cape. He had armour on and his silver white hair was grayer from the mud. A groan rippled from the white haired boy as he shifted on the ground. France had remembered a story Spain had told him about how knights in shining armour would ride in on white horses and rescue damsels. Looking at the boy France wondered if this was one of the knights from the story. Leaning in to examine the face at a closer proximity, he lightly brushed the silver bangs back off the boys face. He was handsome, France thought as he continued to stare at the sleeping figure, inspecting him.

The boy groaned again, opening his bright red eyes. Francis jumping back a bit, he had never seen eyes the color of blood before, but these ones focused in on him almost instantly. A devilish smirk crossing the other boys features as he sat up. France smiled back, the long grass surrounding them on every side. It was the day the two boys met, it was also the day that they decided to become friends. Every day after that France would wander out to the meadow to hang out with Gilbert whom he had developed a slight crush on. One day, however Spain had followed France, yet instead of going to Rome he joined them. After a couple more days they became the best of friends, almost inseparable.

It was a dark rainy day however, when Rome and Germania crossed swords. The rain had been falling forever, and the tension was high. None of it had been planned, the day started out like any other, France and Spain had gone to see Prussia. It ended up with Spain and Prussia getting into an argument that France didn't understand. That was when a large blonde haired nation with a scowl painted on his features broke the two apart. When Germania asked Prussia why he and the Spanish nation had been fighting, Prussia explained everything. He had claimed the French nation as his territory, that he would make France his bride.

Spain had taken insult to that, since he to wanted to make the French nation his bride. It was awkward because they both thought France was a girl at the time and France was to flattered and confused to say anything. It wasn't hard to believe since Grandpa Rome always had dresses sent to France. They way he smelt didn't help either. Fresh baked goods, fruits, flowers, you name it and France smelt like a woman and looked like one. Prussia had just been a little more forward than Spain at the time and told France he would marry him, causing the Spanish nation to get mad and the two to fight.

Germania whom had grown worried about the whereabouts of his younger Prussian colony had set out to look for him. When he came upon the two small nations fighting he moved to intervene. It was quite a surprise for him to see France there dressed the way he was. Germania was not as naive as the other nations he knew that France was a male nation. Seeing him dressed the way he was angered Germania, no self respecting male nation of Germanic blood would wear such a thing, unless they were female and even then it was rare. He had just finished hauling Spain off Prussia when Rome arrived.

Rome stood between Spain and the two Germanic nations, ready to fight and protect his colony. He didn't stop to think he just reacted like he usually did. They stood there ready to fight for a long moment before an awkward smile spread across Rome's face.

"So..." Rome trailed off, "Why are we about to fight?" he questioned.

Germania lifted a single blonde eyebrow, "I don't know, why was young Spain attacking my young Prussia?" he retorted.

"You mean Spain, my Antonio, he wouldn't hurt a fly," Rome shot back trying not to lose his cool.

Germania was about to say something when Prussia yelled from under his arm, "She is not yours! France is mine and that is that!"

Looking towards Francis with distaste Germania questioned evenly, "don't you think you should stop this charade and tell them?"

"I- I am technically a boy," France said fidgeting when all eyes turned on him. It was a very awkward situation that he currently found himself in. Everything was silent then as everyone absorbed the information. Then everything just erupted into a river of questions and accusations.

Ancient Greece smiled and placed a gentle hand on France's shoulder turning his attention away from the scene before him. He looked up at Ancient Greece and felt the same rush of time being fast forwarded. He remembered that nothing was ever really the same after that day in the field. Prussia and Spain were still his friends of course but Rome's behavior as well as Germania's altered towards him. This time when the motion stopped France noticed they were in the same field again. This time it was sunny and it was fall. He was older but not by much. It was when he saw the small figure he was playing with, dressed in a green cloak with shaggy blonde hair, along with the prettiest green eyes he had ever seen, that he remembered this day. The day he met England!


End file.
